


Tzuxeth

by Cân Cennau (cancennau)



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Arguing, Family Dinners, Food, M/M, Prison
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-17 15:01:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13079397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cancennau/pseuds/C%C3%A2n%20Cennau
Summary: Tain, Garak and Julian sit down for dinner, and it goes about as well as a conversation between  three snide asses can go.For Ameera and the Star Trek Secret Santa.





	Tzuxeth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ameera](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ameera/gifts).



Lunchtime at the prison camp was always a rather tense affair. The food portions were always too small, and often there was a squabble over a portion that was perceived to be too big. Then there was the situation of tables - no-one wanted to drop food in their own cot, but the only table like objects were the floor and some scattered old cable dispensers, which were more like coffee tables and stools than a dining set. Nevertheless, Tain had commandeered them for his own personal lunchtimes, and no-one wanted to fight the sick man over such a tiny table, and opted to sit on the floor instead. Julian, who Tain had adopted as his own personal doctor, got to share in this privilege, as did Garak when he arrived (Worf sat with General Martok on an abandoned cot).

However, this did mean that there was ample time for all three of them to get on each others nerves.

“Could we not make murder allusions over the dinner table?” Julian snapped, after ten minutes of Tain and Garak sniping over alluded Obsidian Order tasks. “It’s putting me off my… well, my whatever-this-is.”

The “whatever-this-is” was a fish of some kind, bronze and covered in some sort of grey sauce, that was almost creepily unscented. It came with a pot of some white powder, which Julian supposed was some kind of spice, but had not yet braved to sprinkle some on his own food.

“I think it’s something I’ve had before.” Garak took a tentative bite. “Perhaps something from the colonies.”

“It’s  _ tzuxeth _ .” Tain said, stabbing his meal with a touch more fish than necessary. “A cheap fish from the Cardassian colony of Zket III.”

Garak blinked. “Well, someone’s well travelled.”

“Retirement does give one more free time.” Tain pretended to inspect a piece of vegetable. “As does exile, I suspect.”

“Oh  _ please _ ,” Garak all but threw his cutlery on the table, and crossed his arms. “As if  _ you _ wouldn’t have sent someone after me had I left.”

“What did I say about murder references at the table?” Julian sighed, and looked between them. “Honestly, knock it off.”

Tain looked up at the ceiling.”You humans are so  _ sensitive.”  _ he grumbled. “What are a few death threats among friends?”

“Some people just don’t like talking about murder.” Ignoring Tain for the moment, Julian turned to Garak. “I don't suppose that's salt in the spice pot?”

“No,” Garak replied, shaking the pot. “I believe it’s dehydrated ketracel white.”

“Oh, yuck. No thanks, dear, I’d rather not put highly toxic drugs on my plate.”

_ “Dear?”  _ Tain asked, looking slightly incredulous. “How… quaint.”

“I can call my partner what I  _ like _ .”

“Are all humans so…” Tain circled his fork in thought. “... _ obvious _ , in their affections?”

“Just because I don’t couch my feelings in convoluted metaphor and courting rituals…”

“Well, convoluted metaphor and courting ritual worked for me.” Garak took a bite of his food. Julian threw him a glare.

‘It took me three years to figure out what you wanted! Anyways, you quite enjoy my pet names for you, so hush.”

“Whatever you say, dear.”

“You as well, Elim?” Tain snorted, looking vaguely disgusted. “I thought you were raised better than to be charmed by such trivialities.”

“Turns out that when I was exiled for twenty-five years, I met other cultures. Some of which I  _ like.” _

_ “ _ I too have met other cultures. However,  _ I  _ haven’t adopted their degenerate practices.”

“Call my practices degenerate again,” Julian sniped. “and I’ll dump ketracel white on your food.”

Tain’s toady eyes went comically wide, which reminded Julian very vividly of Garak. “Are you threatening to kill me, doctor?”

“Oh no, not  _ kill  _ you. Just enough to give you some very nasty stomach gas.”

“Have you been bickering like this  _ all  _ the time you’ve been here?” Garak asked. “If I had known your type was old and frumpy, Julian…”

“Hardly.” Tain huffed. “Your human is awful at it. I don’t know what attracted you to him in the first place.”

“My body heat, surely.” Julian gave Garak a fond shove. “And my dashing good looks.”

“Well, those certainly were bonus attributes.” With only a slight hesitation, Garak leaned across and pressed his forehead to Julian’s temple - not a kiss exactly, but not something a Cardassian would do to someone who wasn’t a lover. Across the table, Tain theatrically rolled his eyes.

“Really? In front of my  _ tzuxeth?”  _ Tain shook his head. “You really have let yourself go, Elim.”

“That’s unfortunate.” Garak murmured into Julian’s hair. “I don’t think I care.”

With a great sigh, Tain gave both of them one last dirty look, before rising from their commandeered table and returning to his cot. Julian turned to Garak with a somewhat reprimanding look, but he was too late - Garak had turned back tobhis foid, and ate with a look of a cat who had just been given the tastiest herring.

“I don’t suppose you’ve gotten up to much reading here, have you Doctor? You see, I picked up a most  _ fascinating  _ human book…” 


End file.
